Jethro Gibbs grumbled under his breath as he walked off the elevator, striding into the bullpen with his morning coffee and grabbing the stuff he would need from his desk. When he had all he needed, he strode back out, and cast his teams empty section of the bullpen a longing glance before he headed to the stairs.
He was feeling murderous, and he wasn't sure how he would survive the day.
The Director had called him the night before, asking—no, practically ordering—him to take over for her as Director today. Apparently she was going to be out of town, but she needed someone to cover for her at the office and in some MTAC meetings today.
It felt unjust. He was supposed to be at home, working on his boat.
His team wasn't going to be around today—it was Saturday and they had finished a big case the day before. Abby was going to be out most of the day, apparently doing some charity event thing. Ducky was around, but he was swamped with a couple of bodies that were for another teams case.
There would be nothing to distract him from the grating hell of being 'acting Director'.
The worst part?
The fact that he couldn't bring himself to actually say "no" to her and stick to it.
Sure, he had said no at first, simply to bug her and be disagreeable—but after she continued to plead/order, he somehow found himself grudgingly agreeing.
Evidently, it didn't matter that almost seven years had passed since they were last in a relationship—somehow the damn woman still had this possessive grip on his heart that he had never been able to shake. She still knew too much about him, still knew how to crumble down his defenses.
He walked into her outer office, where her assistant Cynthia was already sitting at her desk.
"Special Agent Gibbs," she greeted, looking a little nervous, yet also looking entertained for some reason.
He merely nodded in response, knowing he needed to at least try to be civil to Cynthia today. The Director had threatened to castrate him with her heels if he didn't, and her tone suggested she wasn't joking one bit. The thought made him internally cringe, a shudder going down his spine.
"Here is the schedule for the day," she said, handing him a piece of paper. "We got rid of anything that the Director would be personally needed for. The other agencies that you'll have meetings with today in MTAC have been notified that you are acting in her place. Here are the briefs you'll need for those meetings," she paused and handed him a stack of folders. "There is stack of NCIS case reports that need to be read and signed off by you as well. Any of the ones that could wait until Monday were pulled out for the Director to deal with later, but the ones on her desk need to be done today. I'll notify you throughout the day of any important changes," she finished, looking up at him.
"Where did the Director disappear to today?" He asked.
All Jenny had told him was that she would be out of town and that it was "need to know".
"It's need to know," Cynthia echoed vaguely.
He glared at her and she returned his glare with an annoying, amused sort of expression. He turned to the office door, trying to release some annoyance as he pushed it open a little more roughly than he needed to, not bothering to close it.
He placed the stack of folders on the desk, right next to the thick stack of reports sitting in her inbox that Cynthia had told him about. He glared at the two piles, silently willing them to just catch fire, perhaps consume him in the flames with them and end his suffering.
The world was conspiring against him, he just knew it.
He let out a frustrated sigh and sat down behind the desk. He was highly tempted to not do any of the work, to be as stubborn as possible and make Jenny regret putting him in this position in the first place.
He knew it wouldn't accomplish anything, though. He agreed to this, and she had the power to fire him if he didn't attempt to take it seriously. It would also damage their relationship that they had slowly been repairing—and much as he denied he didn't want to be with her again or see her happy, deep down he desired both.
With that in mind, he reluctantly went through the schedule and chose a stack to start working on.
By the time afternoon rolled around, he was exhausted. It was 1300, and he had already been in three different MTAC meetings, read so many briefs and reports that his eyes actually hurt, and signed so many damn things that his hand was sore. He had also forgotten his reading glasses, and had resorted to using Jenny's girly looking ones that she had apparently left in her desk.
He came back after a quick trip to get more coffee, tipping his other empty cup and the empty take out containers from lunch into the garbage. He took a long drought of the fresh coffee and then rubbed his hand down his face, wishing the day was closer to being over.
He still couldn't get Fornell's idiotic little grin out of his face either, and was feeling tempted to punch him the next time he saw him in person.
Fornell had been involved in one of the MTAC meetings, his face on a corner of the giant screen next to some others, and the man had been far too entertained about Jethro acting in Jenny's place. When all the other people involved in the meeting had signed off, Fornell actually had the balls to rub Jethro's predicament in his face and laugh at him—asking Jethro if he "was having fun" and calling him "whipped", right before Jethro ordered the MTAC technician to shut it down.
"Bastard," Jethro muttered under his breath, glaring at the papers on the desk that seemed to grow faster than he was able to get through them all.
"Special Agent Gibbs," Cynthia said over the intercom. "Doctor Mallard is here to see you."
He grunted into the intercom, showing he had heard, and Ducky walked in seconds later.
"Jethro," Ducky greeted, smiling widely.
"Duck," he acknowledged, eyeing the file in Ducky's hands apprehensively.
"I came to drop these off—" Jethro groaned loudly and put his head in his hands "—and see how you were doing," Ducky finished with a chuckle. "It would seem that you are not doing so well, and I am sorry to add to your burden," Ducky said as he came forward and placed the file down on the desk.
"Never been so damn bored in my entire life," Jethro groaned, rubbing the sides of his face.
"Perhaps you'll feel a sense of respect for Jennifer's job now," Ducky commented.
"She chose this, Duck, I didn't," he pointed out. "Like she's askin' to be punished or somethin', crazy woman...choosin' rubber chicken dinners and handsy politicians over field work..." Jethro mumbled, trailing off and shaking his head.
Ducky looked like he was on the verge of laughing, and Jethro was starting to get sick of everyone finding his pain to be so humorous. He crossed his arms and glared. Ducky's face softened and he sighed, shaking his head at Jethro.
"She obviously trusts you, Jethro, to let you take over for her. I think that is the highest compliment she could possibly pay you, and you ought to feel grateful. It's only one day, my dear fellow," Ducky reasoned, giving Jethro a knowing look.
He hadn't thought about it that way before, and it did resonate somewhere under the surface of his agitation.
When 1900 finally arrived, Jethro exited the office room gratefully, not casting a second glance behind him at the piles of reports and the girly looking glasses as he shut the door. Cynthia was still at her desk, looking up at him as he walked into the outer office. She had kept her eyes on him all day, practically babysitting him and making him feel like some incapable kid.
"The Director would like to thank you for taking her place today, and asked that you personally drop by her house with these reports," Cynthia said, holding out another stack of files to him.
"What?" He said in confusion.
"I said—"
"No, I know what you said, but what do you mean 'drop by her house'?" He interjected.
"Exactly how it sounds, she wants you to drop these off to her at her house. She would like to get them done before she comes in on Monday," Cynthia explained, looking exhausted.
"Isn't she out of town?" He asked, starting to feel agitated.
Cynthia's lip twitched, and she suddenly had that stupid amused expression on her face again.
"She's home now, it wasn't overnight," Cynthia said airily, pushing the stack of folders towards him.
He gave the files a withering look before he took them, feeling personally offended just by the mere sight of them. The idea of quitting his job just so he would never have to see, read, or write in one ever again was almost tempting.
He was about to turn around and leave, when the thought of Jenny's heels popped into his head.
"Thank you, Cynthia, have a good night," he said, smirking at her look of pure disbelief as he he turned around and left.
He walked up to her front door, files in hand, and glared at the wood before he knocked.
Jenny opened the door, looking very relaxed in a t-shirt and jeans.
"Special Agent Gibbs," she greeted, smirking at him.
"Director," he responded, holding the files out to her.
She took them, looking amused, and turned around and walked off towards her study.
"How did it all go? Did walking in my heels present a challenge?" She asked.
He walked into her house and closed the door behind him, taking her movement and conversation as a sign that she wanted him to come in and give her a report. He found himself staring at her as she walked away, admiring the way her jeans fit on her body.
"Your silence better not mean my entire agency is in complete chaos," she spoke up.
He snapped back to attention, pulling his eyes off of her backside.
"Went fine," he simply responded, not wanting to admit just how agonizing it was.
He followed her into her study, where she placed the files on her desk and went over to the liquor cabinet. She pulled out two glasses and filled them with bourbon, turning around and handing one to him, smirking again.
"From what I've heard, you grumbled all day like an angry bear," she said, taking a sip of her drink.
He scowled, knowing Cynthia or Ducky (or even both) had probably reported his behavior to her. He shrugged in response, not caring to admit defeat.
"Where were you all day?" He asked, knowing he would most likely get the stupid "need to know" response again. She loved using that one.
"Oh, you know," she said, walking towards her desk, "here and there," she said vaguely as she leaned against it and faced him, a wide smile that he suddenly didn't trust spreading across her face. "The mall in the morning, the spa with Ziva in the afternoon, library after that, and then I've been home ever since."
He snorted.
"Still evadin' the question, huh? Must have been somewhere important since ya seem to be holdin' onto that 'need to know' line like a lifeline," he retorted.
"I'm not evading, I literally just told you what I did today." She looked around and lowered her voice, whispering conspiratorially, "Congratulations, you've been let in on the top secret 'need to know' information."
He studied her face, suddenly realizing she seemed to be serious. Her right eye hadn't twitched at all, her voice was steady, and she had this proud, mischievous glint in her eye. She raised an eyebrow at him triumphantly, and he felt his mouth drop open.
"You...wait...you weren't..." he stammered, feeling completely caught off guard.
"Happy April Fools," she said smugly, her eyes dancing with mirth.
He stared at her, the date he had to sign all day on everything right by his signature suddenly floating to his mind. He hadn't even realized...without Tony around, April 1st just seemed like any other day.
"Jen," he growled, feeling anger starting to bubble furiously under the surface, thinking about all the boring crap he had been subjected to all day.
"Jethro," she responded patronizingly, looking far too happy with herself.
"You made me do your job for an entire day so you could go out and have fun?" He snapped, gripping his glass.
"I asked you to do my job for an entire day so I could have fun at your expense as a prank," she corrected. "I'm a big believer in holidays and traditions, you know."
He winced in irritation.
"You never celebrate anything, not even your own damn birthday, and suddenly you decide this is a day you want to celebrate?" He griped, feeling an urge to start yelling.
"I saw an opportunity and I took it. Besides, you owe me a day of Director duty. I'm always having to cover your ass from other agencies so that you can continue to get the job done. Not to mention," she continued as he opened his mouth to argue, "you subjected me to plenty of pranks when I was your probie, and I figure this makes us even."
"You pulled more idiotic pranks on me than I ever pulled on you," he protested.
She smirked at him again, shrugging her shoulders indifferently and taking another sip of her drink.
He felt completely agitated, but at the same time, he couldn't deny that it was the most ingenious prank that had ever been pulled on him—and he had endured both the Marines and being Mike Franks' probie.
He took a hefty gulp from his glass, avoiding her gaze and trying to decide what to do next. He wanted to yell and chew her out, but at the same time he knew his pissed off attitude would just give her more fuel. She wanted him to be irritated, and he didn't want to give her any more satisfaction with her stupid prank.
An idea popped into his head and he looked at her again, blatantly staring her up and down, taking his time. She crossed her arms after a minute, shifting a little.
"What are you doing?" She demanded.
He smirked at her and approached her slowly, getting right up to her and putting his glass down behind her on the table.
"Jethro?" She asked uncertainly, his face moving closer to hers.
He put his mouth right next to her ear, listening to her breath hitch, feeling her body shiver a little.
"Duck told me you trust me, Jen. Told me that you leavin' me in charge today was the 'highest compliment' you could ever pay me, said I should be 'grateful'," he whispered, pulling his face back to look at her. "Didn't realize you liked me so much."
He could tell she was conflicted, and he could see the desire growing in her eyes.
"I don't," she said, her right eye twitching.
"No point in lyin', Jen, I know your tell," he said, staring intensely at her, his body pressing hers against the desk.
"This isn't remotely appropriate," she stated, sounding like she was trying to convince herself more than him, not attempting to push him away at all as she kept her hands on her glass.
"Neither is pulling pranks that could affect your entire agency, or inviting your ex-lover over in the evening and letting him in," he said softly, resting both of his palms on the desk behind her.
He was determined not to break first, he would win this game that he had started...but he felt his resolve disappearing as she bit her lip in a seductive way that made him suddenly realize he had put himself at a disadvantage as well. He let his eyes wander from her lip to her hair and her neck, down to her t-shirt where he could see a little cleavage. She shifted against him, and he had to exercise a lot of self control to not just take her mouth in his right now.
He had originally planned to just get in her personal space to throw her off, set off the desire in her eyes and walk away, leaving her feeling less superior with the knowledge that she still wanted him even though she left him in the first place.
He didn't want to walk away anymore, like he had planned, because he was pressed up against her and he realized he probably wanted her more than she wanted him. He didn't want to cave first, he didn't want to be the first to surrender and admit it—but she was just as stubborn as he was, and she knew his weaknesses as well as he knew hers.
"'Grateful', huh?" She said softly, bringing up his earlier statement. She leaned her head in towards his ear, her breath making his body shiver now. "Well then, you can either thank me, or you can leave."
He realized she was making it clear that she wasn't going to break first, and it was all up to him. He could either give in, essentially admit defeat in this little war, or he could leave. His body was clearly saying give in, yet he knew if he did, whether this was a one night thing or something that lasted, she would always get to hold it over him.
She put her drink down behind her and pushed his left arm away. She began to scooch over to the side, trying to get out from between him and the desk, giving him only a second to make a decision.
He swallowed, feeling like he was actually trying to physically swallow down his pride, and grabbed her shoulder, keeping her from moving away and pressed closer to her.
Her eyes met his and he could tell she knew she had just won. He moved his face closer to hers, his lips resting by hers for a second, giving her time to push him away if she wanted. When he didn't sense any hesitation from her, he pressed his lips to hers, and she responded instantly. He put a hand on her hip and tangled the other in her hair, while her hands went to the back of his neck.
They kissed until they were out of breath, both breaking away and panting. She yanked his shirt and undershirt out from his pants, slipping her hand underneath them and sliding it across his abdomen and chest while they caught their breath.
"I've been waiting for you to give up and kiss me for months now," she admitted breathlessly.
"You said no 'off the job'," he replied defensively, capturing her lips with his again. She pulled apart from him again after a few seconds.
"I was angry at the time, you were being a pain in the ass," she managed to say before she took his lips again.
As the kissing became more passionate, he let his hands wander brazenly across her body and let his lips trail down to her neck, enjoying the satisfied gasps that escaped her. A question entered his mind, and he pulled back.
"Who all knew about your prank?" He asked.
"You're seriously asking me about that when we were just in the middle of making out after seven years?" She asked, looking nonplussed. He just looked at her expectantly, and she sighed.
"Cynthia, of course, and I made sure to pay her extra for being in on it and dealing with you all day. Ducky, and Ziva too, since I went to the spa with her. As far as everyone else and all the agencies are concerned, I was gone and you were covering for me." She let out a breath and looked at him impatiently, trying to tug his face back down to hers.
"What if I said 'Happy April Fools' and walked away right now?" He asked, amused by her behavior, forgetting just how impatient she always used to be.
"It'd be your loss, because I guarantee after a stunt like that it would be the last time you are ever this close to me again," she simpered.
He pulled her face back to his again, knowing that never feeling her against him was the last thing he wanted right now.
He was fine with the fact that she had completely won today, and honestly he didn't understand why neither of them had caved sooner when they had always been so good at this. It wasn't a matter of losing in the end, it actually seemed like a mutually beneficial win-win for the both of them.
The agony from being acting Director all day was completely worth it now, and he'd do it over and over again if it meant he got to be with her. April Fools suddenly seemed like a pretty significant day.
I started this on April 1, and I wanted to get it in before the day was over, but I kept getting distracted and now it is super late. Sorry about that. Hope you all had a great Easter/April Fools day. Thank you to all of my faithful readers/reviewers, I appreciate all of you and your support so much. You always make my day and keep me interested in writing for a ship that seems practically dead in the NCIS universe these days.